


Moving In, Moving Out

by podicus



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Eskild Tryggvason the Gay Guru, Eskild is the Mom Friend, Friendship, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Religion, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-21 23:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11367801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/podicus/pseuds/podicus
Summary: The story of how Isak moved into and out of the Kollektiv. From the scared, isolated boy who couldn't deal with his mamma to the out and proud young man who just wants to live with the man of his life, as told in scenes of Isak and Eskild's friendship.“I’m just saying, why couldn’t I have met him in a gay bar at 2am instead of you? That’s just my luck.”Isak’s too quiet as he purses his lips at his phone, but his eyes aren’t moving across it, and Eskild knows he’s gone a little too far.“Not that I’m not terribly glad to have met you,” he backtracks. “I’m really pleased that you, you know, found a home here. That I could give you that. Even if it did mean you throwing up on my shoes.”Please do pay attention to the tags. First chapter is pretty angsty but chapter two is mainly fluff if you'd rather skip the heavy stuff.





	1. Then

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic because the fact that Eskild took Isak in and gave him a home when he had nowhere to go will always warm my heart <3 Eskild is such a great character - it's a little frustrating that he's used to much for comic relief when it's his loyalty and compassion that make him stand out - and I adore his friendship and support of Isak. Isak admitting to Sana via text in S4 that he misses Eskild was amazing!
> 
> This is a lot heavier than I'd normally write so I need to give warnings for the following:
> 
>  **Warnings** :
> 
> Ableist language \- the opinions Isak has in chapter one are not my own! But Isak was obviously in a very bad place when he left home and seems like he didn't know how to deal with his mamma's mental illness. Spread throughout chapter 1 but none in chapter 2. 
> 
> Panic Attacks \- fairly graphic descriptions on 2 occasions in chapter 1. If you don't want to read, please skip:  
> 1\. The paragraph after _How monumentally stupid. Of all the places to escape..._ until _The scrape of Eskild's chair_.  
>  2\. The paragraph starting _He can't do it. Can't do it._. The next paragraph onwards is fine.  
>  No panic attacks in chapter 2.
> 
> Homophobia \- internalised homophobia in terms of Isak's mindset a year ago, and in particular in relation to religion.
> 
> Also, we still don't know a huge amount about Marianne Valtersen so I've taken liberties with her illness.

**Then (May 2016)**

Isak shakes so hard all he can do is keep walking – don’t stop – legs moving on auto to get away away away from the screaming and the smashing and the sheer fucking crazy.

She’s gone. She’s gone, she’s completely –

\- and there’s nothing he can -

Eyes blurred by the built-up tears, he blinks and they spill down, hot tracks on his cheeks that reveal how cold the rest of his body is, mind too shocked to realise. Walk.

Breathe.

Big gulps of air forced past his choked throat and he can almost still feel her fingers there, branding marks into the soft skin, trying to squeeze the life out of – _not him, not him_ – the demon she thought inside of him.

(and in a flash of self-hatred can’t help but think maybe she knows. God knows how perhaps a peek on his browser history and he’d be fucked. _Men committed shameful acts with other men, and received in themselves the due penalty for their error, Romans 1:27. Or do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men, 1 Corinthians 6:9. If a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads, Leviticus 20:13._ Maybe the demon she saw in him was nothing but his own sin.)

It’s gone too far, now. He can’t – he won’t – he can’t look after her, doesn’t know how. She needs help from a professional, not a sixteen year old who doesn’t know how to handle this.

He considers calling an ambulance for long seconds, paused on the pavement phone resting in his numb hand. Rubs his other hand over his face, tries to pull himself together. He can’t do nothing, can’t just leave her there thinking there are demons in the house out to get her, she must be terrified.

But. The marks on his throat. They’ll need him to come in and explain what happened. If they know his mamma’s hurt him won’t they force him to live with his dad?

He’d actually rather sleep on a park bench. He’d rather go back home and live with his crazy mamma who may or may not try to kill him in his sleep. She might believe it’s a demon but it’s his blood that will be spilt.

And after spending the last two nights wide awake hearing her prowl around the house, shouting at her own imagination, hoping praying she won’t come into his room, tensing breath running ragged with every footstep on the stair. He’d hidden the knives but there are other things she could hurt him – or herself – with.

The fuck leaves a sixteen year old to deal with that on their own?

He will never, never forgive his father for this. For walking out when it got too much

(- but isn’t that what Isak’s doing? Walking away when she needs him the most is he really any better - ?)

and leaving his child to care for someone dangerous.

Not that he’s really a child any more, he’s sixteen now, that’s old enough to live away from home. He doesn’t need him – or her – either of them, people his age live independently. He doesn’t have to go back.

There’s no fucking way he’s going back.

No ambulance. He doesn’t need the social services breathing down his neck, not when he’d rather just hide and never deal with either of them again. He shoots off a text to his dad instead, demanding that he get some help from his mum, now, and carries on going, phone on silent to ignore his father’s weak protests.

It’s several minutes of mindless marching before he realises, dimly, that he doesn’t know where he is. Stops on the street corner to look, breathe, gasps of air that are too wet but he can’t stop the sobs as they wrack his body.

11.47pm on a cold night and he has nowhere to go. He contemplates Jonas, of course, but he doesn’t want to admit how out of hand it’s become. He’s been keeping his mamma’s deterioration to himself for so long now, he can’t deal with the questions. It’s exhausting just thinking of an explanation of why he’s upset and hurt. He couldn’t bear it if Jonas looked at him like something that might break. Boys don’t do that. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t go running to their friends; they man up and deal with it.

Being with Jonas is the only time he feels normal, and god does he need to feel normal. Jonas is the one good thing left in his life and he can’t ruin it. He can’t.

Can’t ask Sara if he can stay because she’ll want things from him that he just can’t give her.

Can’t crawl into Eva’s bedroom window because he fucked that up for good. After what he did to her and Jonas, perhaps this is karma or something – _karma is a bitch_ – perhaps he deserves –

No one deserves this.

Why can’t he just be a normal teenager with a normal life like everyone else for one fucking night and not have to deal with all his problems he just wants to forget – there must be somewhere in this whole city he can go where he won’t have to come up with a million tiring excuses. There must be somewhere he can let go and just be allowed to be himself, just for a little while.

There must be somewhere that he belongs.

He needs a drink.

 

 

 

Several drinks and a queasy stomach later, Isak is rudely awoken by a hand shaking his shoulder. His head slips off his fist, propped up on his elbow propped up on the bar and it’s only the person’s hand coming down to cradle his head that stops it from smashing onto the beer slicked metal.

He blinks his eyes open, frowning something fierce.

“Hi,” the stranger is too loud, too friendly, and far too close. Isak jerks his head back.

“Do you recognise me?” the stranger asks.

Isak struggles to focus on him, the lighting a little too dull and his vision too blurry.

Everything is just too much.

He sits blinking for a while, waiting for everything to settle into place. Things start to slowly make sense – he’s in a bar, and it’s loud, and he kind of does recognise the stranger.

“We talked on Instagram-?” the stranger prompts kindly.

It stirs a vague memory. “Uh, yeah. You’re…”

“Eskild. Noora’s housemate. But I’m sure you knew that. Hard not to remember a guy as hot as me.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to the stranger’s – Eskild’s – smile, or his fluttering eyelashes. Holy shit, do guys actually do that?

“But er,” Eskild shoots the barman a nervous glance. For the first time, Isak notices him and the distrustful glares he’s sending Isak’s way. It’s really fucking rude.

“Terribly rude,” Eskild agrees, though Isak hadn’t realised he’d said that aloud. “So rude, in fact, I think it’s best to go home now, hmm? Before he takes his rudeness further and chucks you out.”

Isak zeroes in on the word home, barely hearing the end of the sentence, a sharp pang of dread in his gut – _mug-throw-smash-hands-throat_ – and he can’t go back. Not now. Not ever.

“I’m not going home. I can’t go home, I’m not going. You can’t make me. Don’t make me. I’ll sleep on the street or – or – just anywhere not home I’m not going back.”

He’s not sure how much sense he’s making – probably not much by the look on Eskild’s face – but then Eskild’s gaze dips down to Isak’s neck, his eyes narrowing before travelling carefully over the rest of him. For a moment, Isak is almost relieved that he forgot his scarf when he ran out of the house.

“Hmm. Okay. It’s probably best if your parents don’t see you in this state. You can stay at mine, if you like?”

“Sure.” Isak’s nodding too quickly. He knows it’s not safe to go home with strangers, especially when drunk and being picked up in a bar, but he’s beyond caring. It can’t be any more dangerous than home.

“Okay. Here we go.” Eskild helps him off the stool and Isak has a few fleeting memories of stumbling out of a door and being guided into the back of a taxi that are surrounded by blackness.

 

 

 

The cold air wakes him up as he’s pulled out of the taxi.

“Almost there,” Eskild mutters, half dragging Isak the few steps towards the door.

“No, shit.” Isak stops so abruptly it almost makes Eskild topple over.

“What?”

“You’re Noora’s housemate.”

“Yeah.”

“No, I can’t go back with you. I don’t – don’t want her to know – she can’t know. She’ll tell Eva and Eva will tell Jonas and - ” Isak pales. Eskild takes a step back, fearing he’s going to be sick. “No. I can’t. I can’t.”

“What don’t you want her to know, Isak?”

The glance that Isak shoots him is a little desperate, a little lost, a little wild. And, _oh_ , Eskild recognises that look.

“You don’t want her to know you were in a gay bar?”

Isak gapes at him. If only that were the only problem. His face crumbles in on itself before Isak hides it behind his hands, his breaths shaky through his sobs.

“Okay.” Eskild uses his most soothing voice. “It’s okay. Nobody has to know. I can sneak you in. We’ll be quiet, yeah? Think you can do that?”

Isak nods behind his hands.

“Okay. Come on. It’s right here.”

Eskild puts his arm back around Isak to help him walk. If he squeezes Isak a little tighter every time an errant sob escapes, well, neither of them mention it.

 

 

 

It’s Eskild closing his bedroom door behind them that makes Isak stop again, staring up at Eskild with distrust and a bit of fear as he takes a step back.

Eskild rolls his eyes. “Not like that. I’ve just seen you throw up. You almost got my shoes. You’ve done more than enough to put me off, no matter how cute you are.”

“Are you trying to pick me up?”

Eskild sighs. “Okay, Isak, what did I _just_ say?”

But Isak still looks up at him with those too scared eyes, and Eskild deflates. “No. You are far too young for me. I meant you can have the floor. I’d normally offer you the couch but god forbid Noora see you in the morning-”

“I should – go -”

“Where?” He doesn’t mean it to come out harsh, but it’s cold, and he’s tired, and he didn’t sign up for babysitting a too-drunk teenager tonight. He wanted flirting. He wanted fun. This is not what he envisioned for bringing a boy back home.

Isak flinches and guilt worms its way into Eskild’s chest. He reaches out and puts a reassuring hand on Isak’s arm.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay. I just want to make sure you’re alright. And Isak? I know how to keep a secret.”

 

 

 

When Isak wakes up the next morning, it’s with deep regret that he’s not still asleep. His head is pounding, his mouth tastes like shit, and his stomach is rebelling in a way which makes him scared to move. He curls up into the foetal position, half listening to the voices he can hear elsewhere. He drifts in and out of consciousness, relieved that, although he’s not quite sure where he is, at least it’s nowhere near his mamma.

The door opens too soon, and Isak scrunches his eyes against the light being flicked on.

“Good morning,” Eskild greets him.

Isak stares at him for a long few seconds. “Morning.”

“I brought you some water. And some painkillers, just in case.” Eskild crouches down and holds out the items to Isak.

“Thanks.”

Isak risks propping himself up on his elbows, taking a few long gulps of water. When he’s finished, an uncomfortable silence settles.

“Sooo. Noora’s out, and Linn’s at her parents. It’s just me that’s in, if you wanted to, I don’t know. Take a shower, or, or get some breakfast. No one would see you.”

Isak nods, still looking like he’s thinking too deeply. Eskild takes a big sniff to make his point.

“I would highly recommend a shower. Teenage boy and beer is not a pleasant mix. I’ll make breakfast.”

Eskild leaves. When he’s gone, Isak sniffs himself.

Maybe Eskild has a point.

 

 

 

When Isak enters the kitchen, it’s to find Eskild humming along to an annoyingly cheerful pop song as he flips a pancake over in the pan.

“Oh, hello.” Eskild takes a dramatic sniff. “See? Much better. These will be done in a minute. Take a seat.”

Isak does as he’s told. He glances around the kitchen, gaze flittering over everything, trying to stop his mind from whirring.

When Eskild turns around to bring their plates to the table, Isak notices that he’s wearing a t-shirt depicting Jesus’ crucifixion. He glances down, the shirt a too strong reminder of his mamma and everything he doesn’t want to think about.

“Thanks,” Isak say when Eskild puts the plates down on the table.

“Do you want a coffee, or -”

Isak shakes his head.

“- or tea?”

“No.” Isak takes his first bite of pancake for something to do. He swallows with difficulty. “Thanks.”

Eskild settles on the seat opposite. He watches Isak eat for a few seconds. Isak keeps his eyes on his plate.

“What do you remember from last night?”

Isak remembers –

Body tense; nerves on edge; exhaustion making it difficult to think when she hasn’t slept for two nights straight, which means neither has he. Desperately scrolling on his phone for some kind of solution to her madness. Making a tea in the hopeless hope it would calm her enough to sit and drink instead of scurrying around the house, muttering about the devil. Her yelling about poison when he tried to give her the mug; twisting out of the way of the boiling drink and shards of china as she threw it at him; screaming; not quick enough to escape her hands as they tried to destroy the demons; escape, the only thing he could do.

And, most of all, the sense of freedom. Getting out of there and telling himself that he can’t go back, not now, not ever, and the wonderful, terrible sense of elation of never going back there again.

How things are different in the cold light of day. As if he could get away from her that easily, even Eskild’s fucking t-shirt mocks him. Nothing in Isak’s life has ever been that easy.

How monumentally stupid. Of all the places to escape to, he’s ended up here, in Noora’s apartment, and word will get out immediately. As fond as he is of Eva, he knows she likes her gossip. And if Jonas finds out, and realises he went back with a gay guy he met at a gay bar –

It’s a little harder to breath. Isak closes his eyes, stops himself from thinking, takes a few seconds to focus on his breath. In, out. In, out. The trembling of his hands makes his fork clatter against the plate so he puts it down on the table, hopes against hope Eskild didn’t notice.

The scrape of Eskild’s chair brings him back to the present. Eskild’s half out of his seat, moving towards Isak, concern all over his face.

“I’m fine,” Isak says.

Eskild lowers himself back down, watching Isak carefully. How he regrets not having a scarf, now. Isak shoves another forkful of pancake in his mouth.

“So…last night?” Eskild prompts.

Isak swallows. “You helped me. In the bar. I was too drunk. Thanks.”

“In the gay bar.”

“I didn’t know it was a gay bar.” He can’t bring himself to look up from the table. Jonas always said he was a bad liar. But then, Jonas doesn’t know the secrets he’s keeping.

A few seconds of silence, and Eskild opens his mouth, looks like he’s going to say something, then contemplates and closes it again.

“Okay,” Eskild agrees. “Anything else?”

“No. I was so drunk. I was probably talking shit. Sorry.”

“Right. Okay.” Eskild hangs on the precipice of saying something more again. “I have work later, but, you’re welcome to stay if you want. You seemed upset last night at the idea of going home, so…” Eskild’s eyes are too careful on him again.

Isak nods, head spinning, trying to work out what to do. Perhaps he can sneak back home, roam the streets until mamma’s asleep – if she sleeps – to get back to his room so she won’t notice. If she’s still there and not locked up in a ward like she should be – did his dad actually do anything last night? Should have checked his phone. He just wanted a few hours where he didn’t have to worry about everything – didn’t have to be responsible for a fragile mind with furious outbursts – a few hours to just be.

The right thing is to go home.

Isn’t it?

But if she’s there waiting to exorcise the devil of out him…

And that feeling last night – the freedom, if only for an evening – the weight off his shoulders. The release. He can’t go back after that. He can’t.

He’s just too scared of her.

There’s no way in hell he’s going to live with his dad, not when he just abandoned them like that. He wouldn’t want Isak there anyway.

And Jonas – he could stay for a few nights, maybe, he knows things are rough at home, but then what? He can’t stay there forever. He’ll have to go back eventually.

It’s not like he has any other friends he’s close enough to stay with. Magnus is alright but he’s not known him for long. It’s easier to keep people at a distance than to let them close enough to realise something’s wrong. The last thing he wants is to be known as the guy with the crazy mamma. What if they think he’s going to go crazy too, then he’ll have no friends left at all –

He can’t do it. Can’t do it. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe and tries to catch his breath but can’t, his gulps of air not offering any release. This time Eskild gets out of his chair and is kneeling by Isak in a second. With a gentle hand on his arm, he instructs Isak to focus on his breathing, nothing else, in and out and in and out and in and out and in until he can do it on his on again.

“I’m not going home,” Isak gasps as soon as he can.

Eskild’s eyes linger on his neck. He can feel him looking for bruises on the other uncovered parts of his body.

“Okay,” Eskild agrees. “But, Isak, how old are you?”

“Sixteen. I’m old enough. Lots of people move out at sixteen, and-”

Eskild holds a hand up. “I’m not arguing with you. Just checking. I could get in trouble, you know? I have to play the…responsible adult.” The idea looks rather new to him.

Isak nods, heart sinking. Eskild doesn’t owe him anything. He doesn’t even know him, beyond a few messages on Instagram. For the first time, Isak appreciates how well and truly dire his situation is. Can’t help but think that this is what they mean by rock bottom. The tears fill his eyes before he can stop them.

“Don’t worry about it for today, alright? Just rest. Relax. You can use my bed, you look exhausted. I’ll try and think of something. I’ll ask my friends and see if anyone’s got a spare room.”

Isak nods dumbly, too drained to offer anything further. Eskild guides him back to his bedroom and it only takes a minute before he’s blacked out again.

 

 

 

It’s several hours later that Isak wakes up with less of a headache but more of a worry about what the fuck he’s going to do.

He can hear Eskild’s voice and he lets the sound wash over him, reminding him that he’s safe here, for the time being. There’s a heavy sigh and Eskild’s voice stops. The worry persists. It doesn’t sound good.

The bedroom door opens and Isak regards him from the bed, head barely poking out from the quilt.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Eskild perches on the bed. “I’ve rang everyone I know, but no one has a spare room.”

Isak closes his eyes, buries his face in the pillow a little more. Of course no one has a room. Isak’s life really is never that easy. It’s never going to be.

“But I’m sure we’ll think of something…”

Isak nods, not trusting his voice not to crack.

“You can stay here for a few days, or – however long you need –”

“Noora can’t know I’m here.”

“I think your safety comes first, Isak.”

“Isn’t there anywhere? That she won’t see?”

The pause is too long.

“Please? I don’t want anyone at school to know.”

“We’ve only three bedrooms. I tried the downstairs neighbours. I guess there’s the basement, but –”

“That will do. I can sleep there.”

“I can’t let you sleep down there, it’s not like a bedroom. It’s all cold and damp, and I don’t even want to think about the cobwebs.” Eskild shivers for dramatic effect. “And if the landlord found out -”

“I can keep quiet. No one will know I’m there.”

Eskild’s on the verge of giving in, he can feel it. He pushes further. “Just for a few nights. Until I find something better.”

Eskild must hear the desperation in Isak’s voice. There’s a heavy silence.

“Just until we come up with a better solution,” Eskild agrees.

Neither of them come up with a better solution.


	2. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Isak moved into and out of the Kollektiv. From the scared, isolated boy who couldn't deal with his mamma to the out and proud young man who just wants to live with the man of his life, as told in scenes of Isak and Eskild's friendship.
> 
> _“I’m just saying, why couldn’t I have met him in a gay bar at 2am instead of you? That’s just my luck.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak’s too quiet as he purses his lips at his phone, but his eyes aren’t moving across it, and Eskild knows he’s gone a little too far._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Not that I’m not terribly glad to have met you,” he backtracks. “I’m really pleased that you, you know, found a home here. That I could give you that. Even if it did mean you throwing up on my shoes.”_
> 
>  
> 
> Please do pay attention to the tags. First chapter is pretty angsty but chapter two is mainly fluff if you'd rather skip the heavy stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much lighter chapter this time! None of the warnings from the previous chapter, or in the tags, apply here.

**Now (March – April 2017)**

 

Eskild’s lying on his front on Isak’s bed, messaging a few guys on Grindr.

 “What about this one?” Eskild selects a profile picture and holds his phone up to Isak. Isak stares at his laptop screen for a few more seconds before glancing down at Eskild’s phone.

 “He’s ok. Good abs.”

 “I know, right? It’s like they’ve been sculptured. But you think he’s just ok?”

 “I mean, he’s not as hot as my boyfriend,” Isak scoffs.

 Eskild rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. It’s wonderful to see Isak so at ease with himself.

 “I still don’t know how someone as grumpy as you got such a charming hottie as Even.”

 “I’m not that grumpy.”

 It’s true, actually. He’s been so much more relaxed and happy the last few months. But –

 “Isak, you’re forgetting that I see you before 10am on a weekly basis.”

 Isak grunts in response. His eyes are fixed back on his laptop screen. Eskild turns onto his back, catching a glance at the laptop screen as he does so. There’s a picture of an apartment. Isak is scrutinising the photos, his tongue poking out of his mouth in the way that it does when he concentrates. Isak senses Eskild looking and glances down at him.

“Eskild!” Isak hurriedly changes tabs.

“Sorry, sorry-”

“You’re so fucking nosy!”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Can’t you do that on your own bed?”

“Alright!” Eskild holds his hands up in surrender as he gets off the bed. “I’m going. Jeez. Though, you know, if there’s anything you want to share with your guru-”

“Bye, Eskild.”

 

 

 

It’s an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday evening when Isak comes to him, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie as he watches Eskild make dinner for a few seconds.

 "Uh, Eskild?”

 “Isak.”

 “Can I ask you something?”

 “Always.” Isak can hear the smile in Eskild’s reply.

 “Do you think it’s too soon for me and Even to move in together?”

 Now that has Eskild’s attention. He turns to face Isak, thinking about what to say. He knows that, despite Isak’s protests, he actually _does_ listen to Eskild’s advice, and underneath that cool exterior he’s fairly sensitive, so he needs to word his answer carefully.

 “Shall I be completely honest?”

 Isak’s shoulders slump.

 “No, it’s not bad, but…” Eskild takes a few more seconds to think. Isak watches him, eyes nervous, playing with the string from his hoodie.

 “Okay, so, honestly? You haven’t been together all that long, and I think in general it’s better to wait until you’ve been together for longer before making such a big commitment. And you’re still so young. There’s plenty of time for that, so, maybe wait for like a year, when you’re a bit older, and you’ve finally learnt how to cook, and clean up after yourself…” Eskild catches the serious look on Isak’s face.

 “But, you know, every relationship is different, and…”

 Isak nods, a bit downcast.

 “- and if you feel it’s right for you now, then…. And, hey. I told you that boys don’t normally break up with their girlfriends for boys they’re hooking up with, and look how that turned out.”

 “Yeah. Not so much of a guru.” The taunt is half-hearted.

 “Is this something you’ve been thinking about? Did he ask you to move in with him?”

 “Yeah. Kind of. Or – not really? He mentioned it, as like, a comment, or, it was more a joke, and…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

 “Do you want to live with him?”

 Isak thinks about the warmth of waking up in the night to see Even beside him, feeling Even’s arm around his waist and his nose brushing his neck as he wakes up, making breakfast in the kitchen without anyone to walk in and interrupt them. Spending as long as they want in the shower together without anyone moaning about taking up the hot water.

 How empty and lonely his bed feels when Even stays at his parents.

 He wants it so much, it’s actually a little scary.

 “Yeah.”

 “Okay. Well, Isak, if we look at his practically, I guess… he spends a lot of time here. You’re used to living on top of each other anyway, so it wouldn’t be so different. And it’s clear from seeing the two of you together that what you have is…real.”

 Isak can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face at that.

 “You’re very good at taking care of him,” Eskild concedes. “And from what I’ve seen, he’s good at taking care of you, too. But, as my godchild, I need to make sure this is best for you. That you’re not rushing into anything. It’s a lot of responsibility, I mean, what if he has another episode?”

Isak squares his shoulders. “I’ll deal with it. Or. I’m not the only one, you know, I can ask his parents if I need to. There’s a lot of advice online about living with someone with bipolar. I’ve read a lot about it.”

 “Of course you have,” Eskild smiles at him softly. “If this something you both want, then go for it. You’re always welcome here if – if you need it.”

“Thanks, Eskild,” says Isak.

“You’re welcome. But do you think you’ll have enough money to hire a cleaner as well? Because, Isak-”

Isak rolls his eyes and walks away, not bothering to hear the end of that sentence.

 

 

 

It takes surprisingly little time for them to find an apartment, and arrange a moving date, and get Mahdi’s uncle’s van, and before Eskild knows it, it’s the week that Isak’s moving.

He has to be at work on the big day so he hovers in Isak’s doorway the night before, trying not to get nostalgic for how empty it looks. Isak never had much stuff but now that it’s all in boxes and bin bags there’s something dishearteningly bare about the room.

Thank god that awful swimsuit picture has gone, though. He hopes it’s in the bin. He met him in a gay bar, seriously, who did he think he was kidding…?

“Eskild? Can you stop standing in my doorway?” Isak frowns at him from where he’s lying on the bed, phone lighting up his face.

“Are you inviting me in?” Eskild steps forward, taking advantage of the moment.

“I was more asking you to get out, but…”

A ping from his phone draws back Isak’s attention and he smiles fondly down at the screen.

“Let me guess,” Eskild sighs as he sits down on Isak’s bed. He puts on a deep voice. “I can’t wait to move in with you tomorrow, baby.” He raises his voice. “Me neither. You’re my sun and the stars. Love you so much heart heart heart heart.”

“That higher pitched voice better not be me,” Isak huffs.

“Of course it is. Even has the voice and face of a Nordic God. And the body, if the sounds I hear from your room are anything to go by.”

“Eskild!”

“I’m just saying, why couldn’t I have met _him_ in a gay bar at 2am instead of you? That’s just my luck.”

Isak’s too quiet as he purses his lips at his phone, but his eyes aren’t moving across it, and Eskild knows he’s gone a little too far.

“Not that I’m not terribly glad to have met you,” he backtracks. “I’m really pleased that you, you know, found a home here. That I could give you that. Even if it did mean you throwing up on my shoes.”

 “Almost on your shoes,” Isak corrects him.

 “Isak, I just said that to be nice. There were definitely splashes of browny-orange when I checked them the next -”

 “- please stop.” Isak stares at the ceiling for a second. Eskild can practically hear the cogs whirring and is about to break the silence when Isak sits up, leaving his phone to one side. He clears his throat.

 “Thanks, though. For letting me stay. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t found me that night.”

 Isak’s face is open and trusting in a way that’s rarely seen outside Even. Eskild can’t quite believe he just said that. The warmth spreads through his body as he feels the tears moistening his eyes. He keeps himself in check, willing them not to fall.

 “And if you ever want to come and visit…” Isak offers, a smile on his face.

 Eskild smiles back, indescribably touched.

 “…don’t,” Isak finishes, his smile turned wicked.

 “After all I’ve done for you.” Eskild gets up off the bed, using the motion to hide his face.

 “Eskild.”

 “No, no, it’s fine. Just use me and my kind nature and my generosity then throw me aside when you don’t need me any more -”

 “Eskild!” Isak’s hand latches onto his arm and stops him from moving further.

 Isak stands by him, looking a little unsure, and Eskild knows this is it. He pulls Isak in, wrapping his arms around him.

 “Good luck in your new home. I hid some housewarming gifts in your stuff when you were in the shower.”

  “Thanks.”

 “I hope you know how lucky you are to have him.”

 “I do.” Isak is using his dreamy voice.

 Eskild’s singleness feels like a dead weight. He pulls back to smile at Isak.

 “I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you, too.” He does, Eskild knows, he’s seen the way Even looks at Isak. He plants an exaggeratedly big kiss on Isak’s head, then lets him go.

 

 

 

When Eskild gets home from work the next day, the apartment already feels subdued. He wonders over to Isak’s – Noora’s – room, to find her hanging clothes up in the wardrobe. He takes a few seconds to look around: the blank white walls, now empty of the awful printed memes; Noora’s make up and trinkets on top of the drawers, instead of empty Fanta bottles; clothes being neatly put away, instead of piled on the floor.

 “Happy getting your room back day.”

 Noora turns around and smiles at him. “Thanks. It’s good to be home.”

 “It already smells better.”

 “Hard to smell worse.”

 “I hope they use that air freshener I gave them.” Eskild pauses. He watches Noora methodically putting her clothes away, to whatever order she has in her mind. No Even serenading Isak in the kitchen. No Isak giggling as Even presses kisses to his cheek. Was the flat always this quiet?

 “Do you think I should have offered to help them unpack?”

 Noora’s look is too knowing. “Eskild.”

 “What? It’s _Isak,_ there’ll probably be boxes unopened for at least a month if he doesn’t have someone prompting him. Think of all that homeware boxed up, suffocating, it’s not fair to leave it to its fate.”

 Noora’s eyebrows are raised. “It’s not our concern anymore,” she points out. “Isak’s apartment can be as messy as he wants it.”

 “I can’t believe you’re saying that. You iron your pillowcases.”

 “Eskild, if there’s no reason for you to be here, can you – I have a lot to do -”

 “Fine, fine. All you and Isak do is push me away when I’m giving you love, but it’s fine-”

 Eskild throw his hands up and turns to leave the room. Noora watches him, eyebrows raised, then feels bad, and bites her lip.

 She steps closer to him. “Eskild.” She reaches out to hold Eskild’s arm, stopping him from leaving. It’s too similar to yesterday, and the pang hits him harder than it should.

 “I know you’ll miss him.”

 Eskild sighs. “My baby gay. All grown up in his own place with his hot boyfriend.”

 Noora scrunches up her nose. “Is it bad that I’ll probably miss Even more?”

 “I feel like I should say yes, but, it was nice to wake up on a Saturday to have someone cooking breakfast for us.”

 “Hmm. And he knew how to wash up.”

 “At least you’ll still see them at school.”

 Noora contemplates Eskild for a few seconds, taking in the hunch of his shoulders, the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

 “Are you doing anything tonight? I was thinking – I have some of those face masks you like, and I can cook us something nice, and we’ll watch Pretty Little Liars. We can even watch a whole episode without Isak complaining, or Even talking about camera angles.”

 Eskild’s smile becomes more genuine. “I would love to.”

 “Just give me twenty minutes to finish this, okay?”

 “Okay. This is why you’re my favourite.”

 Noora smiles as Eskild pokes her nose.

 On his way out of the room, Eskild calls over his shoulder, “I’m surprised you didn’t make him take the mattress, though.”

 “Why would I let him take the mattress?”

 “Think of how many times they’ve fucked on it. I wouldn’t want to sleep on that.”

 Then Eskild’s gone, leaving Noora to stare at the mattress in disgust.

 

 

**Eskild  
** So how’s it going?

 I can’t believe it’s been a whole evening and not a single update.

 Isak.

 Isak.

 Isak.

 I appreciate you’re probably too busy having sex to answer me, but a little consideration for your guru who gave you a house and clothes and food when you needed them is a nice thing that most people would do.

 Just saying.

 Speaking of clothes I know you took my Jesus t-shirt.

 Don’t forget that lube I gave you.

**Isak  
** Chill, Eskild.

Everything’s fine.

**Eskild  
** That’s all you have to say?

**Isak  
** Thanks for the lube ;)

And everything else ♥

**Eskild**  
Any time, Isak ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Chapter one is pretty heavy but chapter two is a lot lighter. 
> 
> Chapter 2 is already written and will be posted this weekend.
> 
> Comments are always hugely appreciated ♥


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